Fragile Flame
by naltariel
Summary: Silmarillion based, DaeronOFC romance for Treehugger's bday. He falls in love with a mortal. DISCONTINUED.
1. Default Chapter

This story is dedicated to Treehugger whose continuous emotional support sustains my writings. 

** Title: Fragile Flame**

Author: Artanis ( aranel_iluvataro@yahoo.com)

Content: PG-13, Daeron/OC romance. 

Disclaimer: I don't own Daeron or Luthien. However, I own the OC who will appear in next chapter. 

**Chapter 1: Remembrance**

_For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. _

He was lonely. All his kin had sailed to the West after the fading of the Three Elven Rings. Elven realms had nothing which could sustain them from decay of the age. The only place for their weary hearts** was the safe haven, the blissful West. Daeron sighed deeply to himself. Having been estranged for three ages from his kin, he longed for them. Still his shame would not allow him to return. He was the betrayer of Luthien, their beloved princess. And his love.**

He remembered the past, when he was young and was recently employed by Thingol into his service. The beauty of the Princess was well known among their people, yet so little of them had the fortune to behold her by their own eyes. And the young minstrel of Doriath was one of the lucky ones.

Under the moonlight was when he first saw her, the creature who made everyone praise the glory of Iluvatar. She was wearing a simple dress that could hide none of her angelic features. There she danced, fairer than a** butterfly, swifter than wind, lighter than air, and gentler than the spring breeze. The wind was singing for her, and starlight rested between her tresses, flowers grew under her feet, and beasts were silent. And he fell under her feet in unutterable awe, for even the most divine song could not describe her beauty.**

People said that her dance had brought Beren back to life, but he was slain by her beauty. He fell to his knee and stayed motionless. Time seemed to freeze as he watched her dance between the trees, which seemed to give way for her paces. At last, she saw him, and smiled as she saw his awestruck face.

"Hail, stranger. Here, let me help you up." She gave her hand and helped him standing up. Then suddenly he felt himself rejoined her dance by his voice. And they danced until Ithil rested and Anar rose shyly behind the mountains. Not until then, he could sing such melody. It was as if her dances which shaped the song and not the opposite. People called him the greatest minstrel of Arda, yet he thought that he was a mere singer, inspired by the unspeakable magnificence of the dancer of Doriath.

He adored her, admired her, worshipped her. Sometimes until the brink of madness. Did she ever realize his love for her? The minstrel never knew. He surely sang to her with all his heart and soul, as if exalting a goddess. And for him, Luthien was a goddess, infinite in beauty and power. Imagining her as mere maiden, let alone mortal, frightened** him to the bone. How could he see her wither? Age? And eventually die? What would the**** world be without her? What would he be without her?**

He knew that Luthien had never loved him, and never would. He did not expect her to return her love, after all a goddess needed more than a mere person as he was. But he would not let the destitute mortal, Beren, win her heart and ultimately cause her to forsake her immortality. No! Betrayal was the only way to prevent it. And so he did. He betrayed her, twice.

Oh, her eyes when she looked at him! There was no hatred there, nor grudge. Only sadness, and weirdly, pity. "You do not understand love," she said, "I will pray to the Valar for you." 

Now he realized that she was right, he was ignorant** of the meaning of true love. For the beloved was the subject of love, and not an object for worship. For his love was hers**** to possess****, and not his. And he had no right to direct the course of her love.**

Strange that her beauty actually bloomed most after her return from Mandos, when her remaining breath was shorter than a wild flower. Perhaps her beauty had been purified under the threshing floor of Love. She had lost everything, yet she possessed everything.

_For love is sufficient unto love. _

And now his teacher was gone, overcome** by the power of Death she had chosen for herself. Leaving him to mourn endlessly in remorse and grief.**

_My love was a rose. _

_It bloomed for a day and withered. _

_How beautiful was yesterday! _

_When your feet complied with my melody. _

_And your heart was virgin still, _

_With no knowledge of love nor passion. _

_But my heart had fallen for you. _

_Deeper than any ocean, fiery than any flames _

_Burning my soul inside out _

_Making me helpless by its jealousy _

_Ah! If only you could see _

_The purity of my love, _

_Beyond my tainted deeds_

*************

First and second italic is from The Prophet by Khalil Gibran, my favourite poet ever. 

Many thanks to Ithilwen for beta reading. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Innocent One 

Daeron looked up and sighed contently. What could be more beautiful than the night sky? When the faint light of the stars shone unhindered, with only pale gleam of the moon as their company. He even lived through days when sky was only lit by stars. Those days, were the most joyous and carefree. Girdle of Melian ensured their safety, for no foul beings, or any beings, could enter their realm without their ruler's consent. But now everything had changed. 

He had never returned to his kin ever since he left Doriath. Instead, he chose to be a lone wanderer, lived only with provision from the nature. But, sometimes the minstrel went into Men's villages and cities, observing their actions. Having seen much, he, who once had the most unfavourable attitude toward the Followers, now felt compassion to them. Their agonies, which many times were denied by themselves, were clearly visible on their faces, and could not be ignored. Sometimes they wept over the loss of their possession, or pride, but they always had hope that tomorrow would bring better lives. Sometimes they would weep for the lost of the loved ones, the ones who went away to live apart from them. And for those who was taken by Death.

Death. 

The word lingered heavily in the air. The War of Ring had just ended, with many victims from the Westernesses as well as the Easterlings. They died, and would not open their eyes again for eternity, for time that was only known to Eru Himself. Why? Why must there be two separate fates for the Children of Iluvatar? Had He made us all immortals or mortals, Daeron reflected, much pain and confusion would never have taken place. But His way was always inscrutable, even to the Valar. 

***************

A clear voice of a girl suddenly awakened him from his trance. He looked down from the tree he was sitting on and his eyes struck on a beautiful little creature approaching him from afar. 

She was young, barely above ten years old. Her hair was long and dark as the night sky. Running by her side was a little golden pup. She laughed and ran as her playmate chased her playfully. Though she was running, her movement was like a dancer dancing, graceful and musical, complying with the song of the wind. She was beautiful, with her reddish cheek as she panted in exhaustion after the long chase. Her smile was bright and childlike, unspoiled by the sins of the grown-ups. And in a very funny way, she reminded Daeron of Luthien. When Luthien danced, it was as if everything around her was pale contrasting to her stunning beauty, as if all was dark and she alone was bright. But this little girl, she brightened her surroundings by her presence, spreading joy to the air. 

She halted and dropped herself onto the soft grass, panting in exhaustion. The pup jumped to her, and with a laugh the girl gathered it in her arms and tickled its belly. The little creature tried to free itself, but she wouldn't let go. They struggled on the grass with the girl still laughing, breaking the silence of nature with her musical voice. 

The minstrel could not help but smile at the sight. His previous grim thoughts were expelled by the light-heartening view. Two innocent creatures of Iluvatar were playing, absorbing themselves into their small but joyous world, where laughter and happiness were the only feeling that existed _._Until when could this innocence be maintained? Daeron pondered involuntarily. He let his guard down while he watched her playing. An ordinary mortal, a girl with a surpassingly enchanting aura, perhaps caused by her innocence and jollity. He certainly hadn't felt such gaiety for some ages. Loneliness was his only companion. 

There was a loud crackling sound, as his hand accidentally broke the branch he was holding on to. The sound startled the young girl. "Who is it?" she asked, alarmed. She looked around. Her wary eyes swept around the surroundings to find the source of the sound. Daeron did not have the chance to evade being spotted. Or maybe he did want to be found. Her eyes struck on him, no longer innocent or jolly, but cautious and alarmed. 

"Who are you?" she asked. "What are you doing here?" 

Daeron smiled and jumped down from the tree. "Hullo, little girl. My name is Daeron. I am watching the stars. They are beautiful aren't they?" he said. "I assume you watch the stars too?" 

The little girl nodded, still watchful. 

"Where are your parents, little one? Why have they left you all alone in this field?"

"They are over there." She pointed her finger to the north, which was on her left side. "They are sleeping. I wake earlier so I can come here and play with Sniffy." She pointed to her dog, which was scrubbing Daeron fondly with its nose. He smiled and picked it up. 

"She likes to sniff. Is that why you call her Sniffy?" Daeron said. The pup was now licking his face. Daeron put it down. It ran to her mistress, barking happily, and then ran to Daeron again. 

She nodded. "Yes. Sniffy never gets along well with strangers. That is weird," she said, while patting the pup, which had run to her again. She looked to Daeron with careful eyes, scrutinizing him once more. "You don't look like a bad man."

"I am not." Daeron kept his smile and approaching the young girl. 

"My parents tell me not to speak to strangers." 

"You must not." He nodded in agreement. "But you mustn't go out by yourself either, especially not in the night." 

"Mom will spank me if she finds out."

"Will she?" 

"Not if she doesn't know. You won't tell her, will you?" She pleaded.

"No, I will not." Daeron smiled. 

She smiled. "Thanks." 

"May I know your name, little girl?" 

"I am Inu." 

"A pretty name for a pretty girl." 

"Thanks. Hey, you are shining!" she exclaimed in amazement as she noticed how bright was Daeron's Elven glow enveloping his body. The girl was so excited she forgot that Daeron was a stranger. She approached Daeron, and touched his skin, examining his glowing skin. "Wow! More beautiful than fireflies… and you have pointed ears!" She said in admiration mixed with bewilderment. Her small hand reached out to touch his ears. Daeron knelt, letting this adorable creature to examine him. 

"I will tell you a secret," he whispered to her ears mysteriously. " I am an Elf."

"You are? Like Elves in fairy tales?" her eyes widened in surprised. "No, I don't believe you. Elves don't exist."

"Ah, but they do, Inu. See? I have pointed ears and I am glowing." Daeron smiled. He wondered why he was so captivated by this young girl, and was desperate for her friendship. He hardly mingled with kids before, though it didn't mean he could not when he felt it necessary. Watching so many children throughout his long life, he had learned just enough of how to communicate with them. 

"Yea." She touched his velvety raven hair now, amazed at the faint spark of starlight, which formed a halo around him. "You are so beautiful, Master Elf."

"You too, little girl." 

"Not like you," she replied. 

"Yea, because you are prettier, " he said honestly. Viewing her closely, Daeron could see sparks of fire burning in her dark brown eyes. Flames of her vitality and some other forces he could not yet discern. This little girl was not an average child, he thought, there are flames of strength and other potential I do not yet foresee. 

"So, you are an Elf?" she asked again.

"Yes."

She smiled, very much convinced. But frowned again. "Where are your friends? Are you alone?"

"You are peceptive, little girl." Daeron smiled, liking the girl even more. "Now, it is a long story. Do you want to hear it?"

"Yes," she said enthusiastically. "Please tell me the story," she begged.

"All right. But not today. You must return to your parents now." 

She twisted her mouth, displeased by his answer. Daeron could not help but laugh. He caressed her hair ere he said, "I just don't want your mom to spank you. Come here tomorrow. **Afternoon**," Daeron added the last word sternly, not wanting the girl to wander alone in the night again. "I will tell you everything you want to know."

"Promise?" she demanded.

"Promise."

"All right then. Good-bye, Master Elf," she said. Her face was again lit by her lovely smile. 

"Good-bye, little girl. Be careful!" He waived his hand, responding to her similar gesture, as she ran with her pup back to the place where she had come from and disappeared from his sight. 

*****************

My deepest gratitude for Ithilwen who beta the story and gives me many insightful feedback.

I am sorry it takes so long for me to update. I am thinking of where this story will go. Thanks to Jillian Baade for remind me that there are people who are still waiting for this story. Expect update in about 2 weeks or so. ( I usually update once every 2 weeks).


	3. chapter 3

**Chapter 3: To Light a Fire**

"Do you want to learn to dance?" Daeron asked the little girl who sat beside him. They had been friends for half a year now. Their friendship bloomed like a flower being showered by a spring rain after a long dormancy under the cruel cold of the winter. Daeron had never felt his loneliness easedever since he left his people, while Inu had never found a creature so kind and full of beauty, surpassing even the most enchanting of fairy tales. 

Usually they just sat under the tree and talked. Daeron would tell her stories about his life and his people. Tales of the shaping of the world and the first awakening of the Eldar. Tales of the Marring of Arda and the destruction of the Trees. Tales of the Unnumbered Tears and the War of Wrath. Sometimes he would teach Inu the wisdom of Iluvatar which he had learned from Melian. Sometimes he would tell her the things he had learned and seen during his lengthy pilgrimage. So far the girl had been amost enthusiastic student. She was clever and perceptive beyond her age. Her dark eyes sparkled with interest and excitement as she absorbed the lore that was unheard among her people. If only she had a more beautiful voice, the greatest minstrel would have taught her to sing until she could melt ice by her song and sing like a nightingale calling out for her beloved. Fortunately, she had the talent to be a good dancer. Her body was lithe and strong, like a slender little willow tree springing out from the ground, reaching out for heaven. 

"Dance? How?" asked the girl, full of curiosity. 

"Like this." 

The Elda danced, yielding to the rhythm of his song, like a bough succumbing to the blowing wind, moving his limbs in perfect harmony, as if drawing a picture in the wind. He sang as he danced:

_Like early unrequited love,_

_One spot exists, which ever blooms,_

_Even in that deadly grove-_

_A single rose is shedding there_

_Its lonely luster, meek and pale:_

_It looks as planted by Despair-_

_So white- so faint- the slightest gale _

_Might whirl the leaves on high;_

_And yet, though storms and blight assail,_

_And hands more rude than wintry sky_

_May wring it from the stem- in vain-_

_Tomorrow sees it bloom again;_

_The stalk some spirit gently rears,_

_And waters with celestial tears…_

"That is so pretty!" exclaimed the girl in awe. Perhaps Daeron was not the best dancer among the Elves, but he was among the lucky ones who had beheld the dance of Luthien, and learned from it. He could recall every movement, every flow of her dress when she danced and yet he danced his own way. 

"Thank you, Inu." The minstrel smiled. "Now, do you want to dance?"

"YES!" exclaimed the little girl.

"Now hold my hands and step on my feet. I'll sing and we will dance together."

"Okay."

Daeron took the little girl's hand and danced with slower motions, accommodating Inu's inexperience. He taught her the basic steps and how to sway her limbs according to the rhythm. The little girl let Daeron lead their movements, thrilled by this new experience. She was excited about becoming a dancer,although she hardly ever saw people dancing. War had just passed, and people found no reason to celebrate. They mourned, not danced. This time, she had found a great teacher beyond her wildest imagination and she could be a dancer! The thought delighted her so much that she smiled throughout her first lesson. 

"Do you like dancing?" asked Daeron after they finished their session. Inu was sitting on the grass, panting, her face flushed in excitement and heat.

"Yes! It is so nice. Can we do that again?"

"Sure!" 

"Yes! Yes!" She shouted in joy. Daeron could not help but laugh. She looked so cute, so beautiful in her own way, so alive, like a flame burning the woods. For a moment, Daeron noticed that he was surprised at the girl's spontaneous cheerfulness. 

And that was when he realized that he had not been accustomed to someone whowas really alive. His life had been haunted by death, either physical death such as suffered by mortals, or emotional death, such as suffered by himself. 

***********************

"Daeron? Daeron?"

He blinked and was jerked back to reality as Inu called him and pulled his tunic in her small fists.

"Are you okay?" she said, her eyes full of concern.

"Yes. There is nothing to worry about, I am just daydreaming," he said, smiling reassuringly to the worried little girl. The girl that had lit the fading spark inside him before it died down completely and made him an immortal corpse. 

"Mommy said we shouldn't daydream too much," she frowned. 

"Your mommy is right, little girl. Too much daydreaming is not good." If only she knew how many times I dream in a day, Daeron thought wryly. In fact, most of his immortal life was spent daydreaming, musing, contemplating, and regretting. But mortals, of course, must carefully count their time and not waste it on something useless, such as endless remorse. They had good reason not to dwell on their past, for Time moved swiftly for them, and they must go on or lose the chance forever. Perhaps mortals were wiser than he was.

"Can we dance again?" she asked hopefully. Her puppy eyes almost shattered all of Daeron's resistance, but he shook his head.

"Not today. It is almost dark. You must go home."

The girl pouted, making Daeron laugh. "We can dance again tomorrow." 

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Both smiled. Yes, they had time, though limited. Tomorrow would come, and they could dance again under the sun until the course of Time swept away everything and left only memories. 

*****************

The poem above is taken from "The Bride of Abidos" by Lord Byron.

Thanks to Ithilwen for beta reading:

Casey: Thanks for liking this story. sorry for long update. Real life that is..

Jillian: thanks a lot for email me and urging me to continue.

Treehugger: :) enjoy your Daeron, and Inu too. I got a surprise for you in this fic..

Finch: I hope everything will be fine. *gives nice gems* I stole it from Feanor, by the way. ;) 


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